


Every Single Piece

by harleyyquinn



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Magical boys being magical, Summertime at the Barns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 09:36:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10964559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harleyyquinn/pseuds/harleyyquinn
Summary: Watching Ronan being purely himself at any task, whether driving, or dreaming, or fighting, or apparently the most basic manual labour to maintain his home, often left Adam in one of two states:1. In awe. A level of which that would placate any stresses leftover from his day and calm any hints of a restless soul. Or,2. Electrified. A sense so tangible that he would feel himself wind up, tighter, and tighter, until Ronan was done and able to be handled, willingly accepting the static shocks from Adam’s fingertips.As Ronan finished stacking the wood in a sheltered area and turned to find Adam watching him, a trickle of sweat running down his neck and over his collar bone, it was decidedly #2.





	Every Single Piece

The summer sun was burning over the barns. It had been fighting with the clouds all day, but had finally won and was boasting in triumph with what was left of the afternoon light. Adam could feel it warming his skin, assured that he was tan enough that he wouldn’t be burning. He couldn’t say the same for the young man he was busy watching; Ronan’s Irish roots meant he alternated between red and off-white all summer long.

Adam had come to the Barns straight after work, but he hadn’t made it inside the old farmhouse yet. As soon as he got out of his dilapidated car he heard a distant rhythmic noise coming from the fields behind the house. Adam was so used to the absolute quiet of the place that he knew the only one who ever disturbed the peace would be the landowner himself. Adam stole what he hoped was a plum (you could never be too sure with magical trees) off a low-hanging branch, and followed the sound to a fenced-off field extending from the side of a large red barn where he found Ronan chopping firewood.

Adam leaned on the old white fence beside a discarded t-shirt, resting his chin on his crossed arms, and stayed just like that for endless minutes. Ronan had his back to Adam as he worked, methodically chopping and stacking the split wood into neat piles. His arms seemingly tireless as he brought down the axe again, and again, and again. Adam thought of calling out to him, of announcing his presence, but he couldn’t manage to do so. That would mean bringing Ronan to a stuttering stop, and Adam would rather observe while he could.

Ronan had always been so much more than what was apparent at first glance, and Adam knew he still had a lot to learn. But watching Ronan sink so completely into life at the Barns, there was never any room for doubt that he belonged there. Ronan thrived while being a walking contradiction; he could have his headphones on blaring electronic beats while peacefully pulling weeds from his vegetable garden, or he could be as happy fiercely street racing on his way home as he was when he got there and would sit on his front porch watching rabbits timidly eat from Opal’s hands, or now where he lost himself in the pure act of physical labour without a shirt, his fierce tattoo rippling across his back with every shift of his muscles, all while still being responsible enough to wear his leather work gloves. Sometimes Adam thought Ronan was like a corrupt shepherd who stumbled out of a pastoral poem. He wondered at the flock already under Ronan’s command, and if he counted as one of the many.

Thud. Crack. Thud. Crack. Thud. Crack. _Thud_.

Ronan finally came to a stop, the axe sinking into the tree stump he’d been using as a base. Adam could see his shoulders heaving from the exertion and found something in his gut tightening. Watching Ronan being purely himself at any task, whether driving, or dreaming, or fighting, or apparently the most basic manual labour to maintain his home, often left Adam in one of two states:

1\. In awe. A level of which that would placate any stresses leftover from his day and calm any hints of a restless soul. Or,

2\. Electrified. A sense so tangible that he would feel himself wind up, tighter, and tighter, until Ronan was done and able to be handled, willingly accepting the static shocks from Adam’s fingertips.

As Ronan finished stacking the wood in a sheltered area and turned to find Adam watching him, a trickle of sweat running down his neck and over his collar bone, it was decidedly #2.

Although a gate wasn’t far, Adam hopped the fence in front of him in a fluid motion that hinted at familiarity. Ronan waited for him with his hands at his side, his face open and expectant.

“I thought you were working late?” Ronan asked.

“I came early.”

“Too easy,” said Ronan, smirking just as Adam reached him, pulling him into a kiss.

Ronan kissed him back lazily, frustratingly slow, to the point where Adam knew he was being antagonized. _You want something?_ his kisses asked. _Then prove it_. Adam broke off the kiss to start pushing at Ronan’s bare chest. With nothing but a raised eyebrow, Ronan cooperated, allowing himself to be guided backwards until he hit the side of the barn.

Ronan moved to hold Adam’s wrist, locking his fingers around the fragile bone. “And how was your day at the office, dear?”

“Dirty,” offered Adam, some miscellaneous black smudges still marked up his forearms as evidence.

Ronan ignored another easy set up and pulled away Adam’s hand so he could pull their bodies together. Adam’s mouth accepted the act as an invitation, seeking out its counterpart. They kissed again, and again, and again.

Adam broke off the kiss and took Ronan’s chin in hand, both of them already on fire. Tilting Ronan’s face away from his, Adam worked his mouth down the side of his pale neck, his skin salty from an afternoon’s work and sweat. Mouth busy, Adam’s hands easily undid Ronan’s jeans before starting to slide down - until Ronan caught his elbow to stop him.

“Knees,” said Ronan dismissively, as if the one word constituted as a full explanation. Ronan gently moved Adam, forcing them to switch positions so Ronan could drop to his knees instead.

Adam watched as Ronan quickly and efficiently opened his pants, pulled down his boxers, and took him into his mouth. As Ronan’s mouth and tongue worked in harmony, his hands pushed at Adam’s shirt, one sliding under to grip onto Adam’s hip, the other finding its way to wherever his mouth couldn’t reach. Adam was keenly aware that Ronan hadn’t removed his soft leather work gloves, and that knowledge was doing something for him that he couldn’t quite grasp yet.

“Fuck,” sighed Adam, catching Ronan’s eye.

Ronan slowed down, hollowing his cheeks, revelling in Adam’s full attention. Neither of them were self-conscious when it came to pleasing the other; what could matter more than the way Ronan would breathe Adam’s name out like it was actually worthy of worship, or the way he’d easily smile in satisfaction as if nothing was more natural on a face made from sharp angles originally intended to cut. The answer was always nothing. Nothing in those moments could matter more.

Adam carefully cupped the side of Ronan’s face, tracing the arch of an eyebrow with his thumb. He didn’t yet know what trick of magic could ever bring such a powerful god to his knees. He thought he’d spend his life trying to figure it out.

Ronan picked up the pace, causing Adam to lose track of his thoughts, one of Ronan’s gloved hands lacing their fingers together. Hand in hand, Adam closed his eyes and let Ronan guide him over the edge.

“Fuck,” said Adam again as Ronan sat back on his knees, wearing a self-satisfied smile. “You don’t always have to look so smug after.”

“Fuck off and let me enjoy this, Parrish.”

Adam shook his head as Ronan stood, catching a glimpse of green and dirt now marring Ronan’s jeans. “Did-” Something clicked. “Did you just give me head so I wouldn’t get grass stains on my work pants?”

Ronan shrugged. _Yes_.

“You asshole,” Adam breathed, pulling Ronan in for a kiss. _Known, known, known_ , said the pulse behind his eyes, slid the tongue into his mouth. _Known_.

When they pulled apart Ronan watched him in an assessing way before pushing off from the side of the barn. “Come on, our traveling trio of…” Ronan trailed off.

“Travesties?” offered Adam.

Ronan pointed at him in a very Gansey-like gesture. “Yes, our traveling trio of travesties are supposed to call soon. So now you can deal with them.”  
  
Adam nodded before following after him. “Where are the kids?”

Ronan slung his shirt over his shoulder, finally removing his work gloves and letting them half hang out of his back pocket. Adam tried not to stare. “Last I saw them, Opal and Chainsaw were playing in the cow barn.”

Adam didn’t ask if he’d had any more luck waking those particular beasts, he knew that if Ronan was getting any closer he’d have heard about it already. He also knew Ronan would figure it out eventually. There was very little in his life he believed in as much as he did Ronan’s power. He’d seen irrefutable proof of his brand of magic. The kind that showed him over and over again that nothing was impossible when it came to Ronan Lynch.

-

Adam sat alone at the kitchen table, Ronan’s old laptop sitting open in front of him. Ronan had already convinced him that he’d be taking the laptop with him to school - there was no going back once he saw the super thin and expensive new laptop Ronan had sitting in his room to replace this one that would be going to waste otherwise. He hadn’t been so hard to win over really, not with the prospect of not only getting work and research done so much easier, but also being able to keep in touch with everyone over Skype (Ronan had been less than subtle about other benefits if they were to Skype while long-distance).

After winning another game of Spider Solitaire, a call finally came through. Adam quickly accepted it and was greeted with the back of Blue’s head, her hair up in a futile pony tail with so much of her hair escaping to hang down. Blue’s voice was initially choppy as they established a connection, but it still carried as she yelled at the two boys out of frame. Finally she turned to find Adam staring back at her and gave a surprised smile. God, she was still so beautiful. Maybe more so since they’d been on the road. There was something that had been set free in each of them with the start of summer. It was something that had seemed to lift some of the weight off Blue and Gansey’s shoulders and it suited them.

“Adam!” she said with a lopsided grin. “Ronan said you’d miss our call because you were working.”

“I got off early,” said Adam, just as Ronan came back into the kitchen, still without a shirt.

“ _Phrasing_ ,” taunted Ronan as he started opening cupboards, sending a cursory wave at the screen.

Blue ignored the implications, far too used to them. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good. Really good.” Ronan snorted behind him, setting a wok on the stove. “Where are you guys now?”

Blue stood back from the monitor, showing Adam her baggy and obnoxiously orange t-shirt that read ‘ _Everything’s Bigger in Texas_ ’. “In Austin. The shirt isn’t lying. Specifically about the food.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“We’re heading to that Congress Avenue bridge soon, the one with the millions of bats. Although Henry wants to stay in the car. He’s convinced one will get stuck in his hair.”

Adam shrugged. “That might be a valid concern.”

She laughed and he was so glad they all managed to find a point in their lives when those came to them easily. “Do I see Ronan cooking? Get him over here for a sec, I want to show him something.”

Adam turned in his seat to indeed find Ronan preparing to cook - stir fry if he were to guess. Ronan had proved to be an impressive cook, so much so that he didn’t dare mock him in case he ever stopped.

Ronan finished chopping a green pepper, wiping the blade of the knife clean before coming to stand behind Adam’s chair. He leaned down on Adam’s shoulder until his face was in frame.

“Squirt,” said Ronan in lieu of hello.

“Jerk. I have something for you.” Adam really hoped it was a matching orange t-shirt. It wasn’t.

Blue reached off screen to hold something up for the camera. When the light readjusted to the white paper it was clear that it was a drawing, and one with a specific purpose. Drawn on the back of a festival flyer was a sketched torso, and covering the shoulders and some of the chest, in very fine detail, were roses; rose bushes, rose thorns, rose petals, a rose garden that would cover the shoulders and curl towards the heart. _Aurora_.

Blue uncovered the screen, staring at the drawing in her hands for a moment longer. She finally managed to look up. “Do you like it?”

Ronan nodded. “Not bad, Sargent. Get Gansey to text me a picture of it.”

She looked relieved. “Do you really like it?”

“Fuck, no. But make sure he texts it to me anyways.” That was as good of a thank you Blue was getting for now and the warm smile on her face said she knew so.

Ronan flipped her off in response and went back to getting dinner ready.

Adam watched as Blue furiously tried to tuck some of her wild hair behind her ears. “I should probably go,” she said, giving up on her hair. “Y’know, the bats. I’ll get Gansey first.”

Blue got up abruptly, but Adam didn’t need to pry, he understood the power that lay in successfully pleasing Ronan Lynch in any manner. He patiently waited, wondering which coffee shop he was staring at that they’d stopped at to rip off the free wifi.

With an apparent shove Gansey flopped down in front of the camera. “Parrish,” said Gansey with an easy smile that showed off his brilliant white teeth. “It is so nice to see your freckled face for a change.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” grumbled Ronan, clearing the cutting board into the now sizzling wok.

The boys at the computer ignored him. “How’s Texas?”

“Hot, mostly. And covered in barbecues. Plenty of y’alls to be heard. Henry hasn’t stopped saying it since we crossed the state line.”

“So about what I’d expect then.”

“Truly,” said Gansey, squinting at the monitor. “Is Ronan cooking at the stove with no shirt again? Please tell your boyfriend to put on some clothes before he hurts himself.”

Adam looked over his shoulder, studying Ronan’s profile. He found he didn’t really want to tell him any such thing. When Adam turned back, the knowing look Gansey was wearing told him that maybe his response was too obvious. He felt the urge to stick his tongue out, but that was too Blue-like, and flipping him off would be too Ronan-like and only make it worse. So he chose to be Adam-like and didn’t say a word.

“You crazy kids,” said Gansey fondly. “I know that everything is exactly as it should be, but we still wish you guys were here sometimes.”

Adam nodded, he knew the feeling well. In these moments they were all exactly where they belonged, but they’d never stop feeling that tug that their mismatched family was strongest when together.

“It’s just distance and time,” reasoned Adam.

“Distance and time,” Gansey echoed. The concepts no longer seemed insurmountable for them. They were theirs to warp and bend so that they’d always be together where and when they were supposed to be.

Gansey looked up off screen before Henry Cheng filled the rest of the background. “Blue is going on about a bat signal soaring in the sky and we need to get going.” As almost an after-thought he leaned down so his face hovered over Gansey’s shoulder. “Howdy, boys.”

“Cheng,” said Adam, just as Ronan placed a slightly steaming bowl in front of him. Adam thought he might be grinning like an idiot as he noticed the stir fry was covered in an excessive mountain of shredded cheese, something he always wanted but could never bring himself to ask for. “Thanks,” he said, barely resisting the urge to kiss him as he remembered they still had an audience.

Gansey’s smile was soft and indulgent, whereas Henry’s was something closer to wicked. “We’ll let you go,” said Gansey.

“Okay. Text Ronan when you can call next.”

“Absolutely.”

“Y’all have a good night now,” said Henry. “Make sure you use protect-” he got cut off as Gansey shoved his face off camera.

“Take care of yourselves,” said Adam.

“I was going to say the exact same thing. Excelsior.” With a small salute their king signed off, ready to go attend to the people.

Adam pushed the laptop away from him, and turned to watch Ronan rooting around in the fridge. He had found that people had the tendency to change when they were at home. People would become vulnerable, off-guard in a way that was entirely subconscious. Ronan’s transformation was fascinating in the way that made Adam want to keep a running tally of every action that demonstrated how comfortable the sharp boy was in his own soft home.

With a drink in hand Ronan let the fridge door slam close, bottles rattling loudly in the otherwise quiet kitchen. He turned to find Adam watching him, and no effort was required to beckon him over. Adam caught him by the hips as soon as he was in reach, pulling him forward between his knees so that he could place soft kisses across his abdomen. Ronan gently combed his free hand through Adam’s hair, scraping his fingers through the short hairs at the back of his neck.

Adam closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Ronan’s stomach, rising and falling with each breath. _Distance and Time_ , he’d said so nonchalantly to Gansey. In only a couple of months, distance and time would hold him and Ronan at their mercy. He insistently felt the urge to hold onto these moments, as if he were able to engrave the seconds as solid as stone instead of smoke that whispered through his fingers. He wanted to be able to be sitting in a foreign room in a new city and easily pull countless moments just like this from his memory.

Adam heard Ronan place his drink on the table, and felt cold fingers begin to trace the shell of his deafened ear. The cold felt so extreme compared to the burning palm pressed into the back of his neck. Again and again Ronan traced the ear as Adam leaned into it. Adam felt his chest begin to tighten. The kitchen smelled of the stir fry while a repetitive ticking sounded loud from an old clock that hung in the hallway. It was suddenly and irrationally all too much. Like Ronan’s life was pushing in on him, begging to start constructing additions inside his chest and move right in.

“Sometimes I think,” Adam murmured against Ronan’s soft skin, “that it would be so much better if I knew nothing about you.”

Ronan stopped his hand. “Too late now.”

Adam opened his eyes, taking Ronan’s hand in his own, pressing a kiss to his open palm. “Too late. Now I want to know everything. I don’t know which is worse.”

“I think that answer is pretty self-evident. But could you try being philosophical while you eat? Your food is getting cold and if I remember correctly you have this hang-up about wasting things.”

Adam gently tugged on Ronan’s hand, asking him without words. Ronan complied with the unspoken request to bend down and kiss him. Their kiss was gentle, the kind that said there was no rush, the kind that promised there would be so many more to come. With a sigh they parted and turned to their food. The pasta had cooled some but Adam didn’t seem to mind at all.

\--

The night air around them was still holding onto the day’s heat between it’s fingers, slowly letting it seep out between the cracks. But they’d set up a blazing fire all the same. Opal had come crawling out of the barn with Chainsaw following after her, and she’d begged for roasted marshmallows before agreeing to go to bed. But like Ronan, her version of roasting marshmallows was letting them catch fire and picking the burnt goo off the stick. Although thankfully unlike Ronan, the stick usually disappeared along with the marshmallow for Opal, not bothering to discern one supposedly edible item from the other.

Opal had gone to bed with a stomach full of bark and marshmallows, and wearing the biggest grin. In her wake she’d left behind Ronan and Adam lying on an old tartan blanket they had snagged off the back of the couch on their way out the door. They’d talked quietly about everything and nothing at all, watching the clouds slowly hide away all of the blinking stars. They were eventually quiet for a long while, lying side by side, Adam’s hand held in Ronan’s, rising up and down with his stomach where they lay on top of. Adam watched Ronan’s face, his eyes closed in contented peace, and wondered if he’d fall asleep where he lay after previously giving Opal a lecture to get up to bed before she did the very same thing.

As if Ronan could feel the accusations of hypocrisy coming his way he opened his eyes and met Adam’s stare. Ronan’s blue eyes were narrowed and serious, but he didn’t offer an explanation. “Come find me,” he hoarsely demanded before closing his eyes again, this time with a purpose.

Adam felt himself smile as he turned his head to face the fire. Water was more often preferred for scrying, and Adam agreed it was certainly easiest, but he’d found fire to be just as effective of a black hole to lose himself in. He watched the embers flare and dull, like they breathed with their own charcoal lungs, tracing the dancing patterns of the flames until he lost all other sensations. He was no longer lying on a blanket under an open sky, he was in the flames, he was the flames, he was the wood burning and crumbling until finally he became the smoke and reached out with furling tendrils until he found the edges of Ronan’s dream and seamlessly slipped right in.

With no surprise Adam found himself surrounded by trees. Only it wasn’t their forest, it wasn’t Cabeswater. It was a jungle. The earthy smell surrounding him was at once familiar but exotic. The humidity pressed in on him, like the water trapped in the air was a cocoon and promised to make him sweat even if he did nothing more than stand there.

Although the canopy reached way above him, and the sounds of the animals were raucous instead of peaceful, he still felt at home amongst the towering trees. Adam had always understood the way Blue would take comfort in the life she could feel from their trunks. But he didn’t need their bark, he needed their roots. Adam crouched down to place both of his palms on the moist soil and cast out his intent. It took a moment before he felt the familiar answer to his call and then it was a matter of following it like a thread through the trees.

It wasn’t far before he came across a clearing with a circle of large moss covered stones. The circle reminded him of druids, something like Stonehenge, only surrounded by tropical plants and vines growing up the side of the tallest stone in the centre. At the base of that particular rock sat Ronan, his arm resting on one bent knee. Ronan tilted his head back against the stone, wearing a smile that Adam could only describe as predatory, the kind that could slit throats from across the room.

“That’s a new record,” said Ronan as Adam stepped past the circle’s threshold.

Adam shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I thought you were supposed to be good at this.”

Ronan’s smile got sharper. “And I thought you were supposed to be clever. Looks like we were both wrong.” With that Ronan slapped a hand to his chest and he exploded into a flock of ravens. An _unkindness_ , Adam reminded himself as he watched the birds swirl up above the stones before dispersing in every direction.

“Well,” Adam said aloud to the now empty circle, “shit.”

The light that made it through the thick sky of branches and leaves above him was turning orange with a sunset. Adam wondered wryly if that was Ronan’s doing as well to make it harder. Shaking his head, Adam started to walk a slow lap of the circle, letting his fingers trail along the stones. He tried to follow the thread of energy like before, but each raven felt identical to Ronan. He had no idea when Ronan had learned that particular trick, but he made a note to remind him there was only supposed to be one magician here.

After completing a third lap and with the light all but gone he stopped by the same rock he had stood before to face Ronan. Turning with his back to the centre Adam placed one hand on the cracked stone before him, and his other on his chest. He knew there was no point in chasing a bird at random, and he didn’t have the time to examine each thread. So instead he decided to amplify his call.

Uncountable minutes passed by as he listened to the sounds of the jungle around him. With the coming dark most of the hidden animals had gotten quieter, as if wary of any dream predators Ronan had allowed to roam. With that idea Adam remembered Ronan’s smile when he found him and thought maybe Ronan was the only predator in here.

The more Adam focused on his thoughts of Ronan, the louder his intent rang out. He focused on the image of Ronan’s hands in his leather work gloves. He thought of Ronan’s bleeding heart, full of compassion he didn’t often know how to express. He thought of Ronan letting Adam drive his BMW, and the viciously proud smile Ronan wore as Adam went over the speed limit on the back roads.

There was a pulse behind his eyes, like a tug on the thread he’d been chasing. He turned on his heel to once again find Ronan in the exact place he’d been before, sitting with his back to the stone and his legs spread out before him.

“You never left,” said Adam. “ _How_?” He was more bemused than frustrated.

“I took advantage of you.” Ronan watched him closely. “Of your blind faith, specifically.”

“I don’t think anyone would describe me as the blind faith having type.”

“Because they’re idiots.” Ronan tugged on the leather bands around his wrist. “You have misplaced blind faith in my abilities, so I knew I could show you anything and you’d accept that I could actually do it. Just some Illusionist 101.”

“I think you’re getting confused with faith and knowledge. I believe you can do anything, because I know you can do anything.” Adam gestured around them, like, _hello, we’re arguing about this in your dream_.

Ronan waved it off. “Not the same.”

“Uh huh,” said Adam in a way that was clear he meant the opposite. “How’d you spread out your energy like that?”

Adam came to stand over him, his feet planted on either side of Ronan’s knees. He watched Ronan chew on his lip while thinking it over. He’d admitted to Adam before he didn’t often like to have to explain himself because he rarely knew _why_ or _how_ anymore than anyone’s worst guess.

“I think it was something like the way you release your intent. You can bottle it up,” Ronan curled up his fist to demonstrate. “You can hone in on that thrumming somewhere in the pit of your stomach. And when you’re ready, you just let go.” His hand opened back up, resting in his lap. “You know?”

“I know,” Adam agreed.

Ronan tugged at the back of Adam’s legs until he sank to his knees. They watched each other intently, while far above them they heard the faint rumbles of thunder.

"I can't tell who won this time," admitted Adam. Ronan shrugged nonchalantly in response, _who fucking cares_. "I'm thinking we tied, at the very least."

Ronan's fingers tapped out a rhythm on Adam's thighs. "Sure man, whatever makes you feel better."

Adam's mouth quirked. "You're such a dick."

"I don't think Gansey would appreciate the comparison."

Adam shook his head before leaning in to kiss him, in the kind of way that said _I've been waiting to do that_ , and _it's definitely time for you to shut up now_.

Somewhere in the middle of Ronan’s tongue exploring his mouth, Adam felt a large raindrop fall in his hair, followed closely by another, and yet another on his shoulder. The rain was as warm as the air around them, and Adam knew it was their own fault. Sometimes they influenced their surroundings in ways they weren’t even aware of.

Ronan worked his tireless mouth down Adam’s throat, leaving as many red marks as he could along the way, knowing they wouldn’t last. The rain fell harder, starting to soak into their clothes. Ronan’s white shirt plastered to his skin, the colourful Ronan-original curse word printed across the front stood out in dark relief. Adam felt Ronan’s sharp smile against his skin; Ronan breathed for thunderstorms.

Adam’s nails scratched over Ronan’s shaved head, laughing quietly as the rain became closer to a deluge. Thunder exploded far above the tree tops, shaking the earth beneath them that was quickly turning into nothing but leaves and mud. The thunder rolled on, clouds crashing into each other like cars. Ronan finally stopped long enough to lean his head back against the stone, closing his eyes against the falling rain, a wicked smile left around his mouth.

“ _Ronan_ ,” Adam said, when he really meant _please_.

Ronan watched him through the rain, calculating. “Not yet,” he said with a grin bestowed by the devil himself, before pulling Adam in for another demanding kiss. Hands tangled in wet hair, hips rolled in soaked denim. Adam wondered if they would drown in this dream of theirs.

Ronan tightened his grip around Adam’s waist before rolling them sideways in the mud.

“ _Ronan_ ,” Adam said, when he really meant _Jesus_.

Ronan didn’t bother defending his actions as he continued to kiss Adam, now rocking his hips in a purposeful manner. The rain still crashed around them, loud against the earth beside his good ear. But they didn’t stop. Adam felt them sliding in the mud, their actions frantic, like the thunder and lightning was orchestrating their actions. Adam knew for Ronan, a storm like this wasn’t a reason to stop, it was a call to arms.

Adam dug his fingers into Ronan’s back, just beside his spine, and let a noise escape into Ronan’s mouth. At the wanting sound, Ronan finally paused his hips. Ronan lifted his head to look down at Adam, his breath coming fast, but his expression was carefully satisfied. Adam knew it was because he had let go. He had lost himself in the moment, and Ronan had been the one to get him there.

“Close your eyes,” said Ronan, his voice low.

Adam did so without hesitation, feeling the rain on his face. He felt Ronan cover his eyes with a hand anyways, and then Ronan kissed him again, but softly this time, slowly.

When Ronan removed his hand, Adam opened his eyes to find they were no longer in the jungle.

They were back at the Barns, on their worn tartan blanket, next to the burnt out fire. Adam sighed as he found his clothes dry. Ronan had yet to move, and Adam realized he had accidentally brought the mud back with him, clinging only to his skin. Adam let out a quiet laugh as he sat up, served him right.

The night was quiet, and Adam’s thoughts felt loud in comparison. He turned to sit cross-legged on the blanket, studying Ronan’s still form. He could still feel Ronan’s mouth on his own, and the leftover energy Ronan purposefully worked up curled in spirals in the pit of his stomach. Adam rubbed a thumb across his bottom lip as Ronan finally opened his eyes, a sly smile hiding at the corner of his mouth.

Adam didn’t say anything as they just watched each other. Finally he caved, “You could have left the mud behind.”

The dark streaks were already drying; evidence left across his arms, down the side of his neck, and above one arched eyebrow.

Ronan held his arms before his face to inspect the damage and shrugged. “I was distracted.”

“You’re just lucky I didn’t come back the same.”

“Come on, Parrish.” Ronan stretched out, his arms resting above his head, the embodiment of nonchalance. “You know you enjoyed rolling around in the mud with me.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Sure,” Ronan said, his voice confident. “But I know you enjoy that too.” He wasn’t as wrong as Adam would like him to be.

They fell quiet for some time, Ronan enjoying the silent night, while Adam let his thoughts chase each other in circles.

“You’re doing it again,” murmured Ronan, his hands folded behind his head as he stared at the overcast night sky.

“Hm?” Adam knew he sounded distracted.

“That thing you do where you think so loud that I can hear it.”

Adam wondered for a moment if he meant that literally or not. Their lines between what was possible and what should have been impossible were constantly rewriting themselves.

“It’s nothing important.”

“I didn’t ask if it was.”

Adam hm’d again as he started plucking stems of grass at the edge of the blanket, making a pile by his knee. He thought better of it and started to make the pile on Ronan’s stomach instead.

“I was just wondering if all this dream practice is going to pay off or not.”

Ronan turned his head to watch Adam’s hands. “I can tell you that all your practice making out with me has already paid off.”

“Noted.” Adam added a plucked dandelion to the pile.

“Parrish, I don’t need to remind you that you graduated top of our class. Not just because you were the biggest nerd there, which is really saying something. And not just because you needed the scholarships more than anyone else did. It’s because you don’t like to lose.”

Adam had his eyes narrowed on the growing pile. “Because I’m competitive?”

“As hell,” confirmed Ronan with a nod. “You’re going to master this like everything else you put your freakishly large brain to. There’s no reason to think this would be any different.”

“I just…” Adam placed both of his hands to the blanket, pushing down on the earth below like he had in the dream. “I don’t want to forget what it feels like.”

“You won’t,” said Ronan, sounding so sure.

“You have to admit it’s a possibility.”

Ronan let out a sigh, as if they’d already had this conversation ten times. And maybe they had, just with different words. It was the only way Ronan would have known to keep helping him practice honing his connection to the ley lines in their dreams.

“I don’t have to admit anything. Come here,” Ronan pat his hip once.

Adam obeyed without thinking, crawling over Ronan to straddle his waist, finally scooping up the pile of grass to relocate it to the blanket. Ronan waited for him to be done before taking one of Adam’s wrists in his hand. With his free hand Ronan shirked up the t-shirt he had finally donned, enough so he could slide Adam’s hand under the fabric to rest over his heart.

Ronan squeezed the fragile wrist between his fingers. “The magic in the lines is no different than the magic in your blood. It will always call out to you, and you will always answer, because you’re one and the same.” Adam dug his fingers into Ronan’s chest, feeling his heart beat steadily against its cage. “That isn’t something you can forget.”

Adam closed his eyes and focused on the pulse beneath his palm, no different than when he felt for the one that ran underground. Ronan’s was sturdier, a pulse he had spent countless time listening to with his good ear pressed against Ronan’s chest. He knew the way it sounded when his hands would explore Ronan’s skin, the way it pounded like the erratic bass forever present in the BMW. And he knew the way it sounded when Ronan was dreaming, the deadly slow pace it took, and then the kick into overdrive when Ronan created something otherworldly. And he knew the way it felt when they lay together long enough for the rhythm of their pulses to match.

_One and the same_.

Adam opened his eyes to find Ronan watching him intensely. Adam finished the job of pushing Ronan’s shirt all the way up, baring Ronan’s chest. It was easy to imagine Blue’s floral tattoo design covering the vast pale skin. Adam bent his head to place kisses just under Ronan’s collar bone, his one hand still in Ronan’s grip.

“Isn’t Gansey always saying the ley line is just a conduit,” Ronan continued, making a small noise as Adam’s mouth found his nipple. “But the magic is always there. Even if it’s hiding in the bottom of your veins humming so quietly you can’t hear it, it’s still there waiting for you to turn the volume up. Waiting for you to find a line. And you’ll always be able to follow it back here.”

Adam’s mouth paused its thorough mapping of Ronan’s skin. Ronan was careful not to say _back home_. A word that had meant very little for so long to Adam. It used to mean four walls that trapped him, four walls trying to suffocate him, four walls that were too thin to hide noises he didn’t want to hear, too old to stop spirits wandering through. But now home meant everything to him. Home wasn’t a trailer, or an apartment, or even a farmhouse. Home was in Ronan’s hands, in Gansey’s smile, in Blue’s laugh. And Ronan believed all Adam ever had to do was follow a ley line home, regardless if that would take him to Henrietta, or Wales, or a South American rainforest. He’d always be able to find them.

Adam sat up to kiss Ronan, hard. His free hand reached between them to hastily undo Ronan’s pants enough so his hand could slide in. Ronan tangled his hand into Adam’s hair, his mouth eager to carry on communicating without words as it made a trail along his jaw.

Adam didn’t know if he could find the words he needed right then anyways, they were tripping over themselves to get out first, but then Ronan’s tongue found Adam’s and he forgot that anything else could matter.

Their bodies carried the conversation for them. The weight of Adam’s body pressing down on Ronan’s said _stay_. The way Ronan sucked on Adam’s tongue said _tell me why I should_. The way Adam’s hand curled possessively around Ronan’s hardened length said _because I need you_. The jerk of Ronan’s hips and the unashamed moan he let hum through Adam’s mouth said _but I need you so much more_.

Adam’s hand worked hard, knowing Ronan didn’t often have the patience for a delicate touch. The way Ronan’s back arched off the blanket said Adam knew him well. Adam pulled back enough so that he could watch Ronan’s face. His eyes were half-closed, until Adam twisted his hand just so, and they shut completely. Ronan’s fingers dug into Adam’s back and with another jerk of his hips he let himself unravel. Adam watched the flush spread in Ronan’s cheeks as he didn’t pause to undo his own jeans.

Ronan’s eyes snapped open as Adam began to take care of himself. Ronan pulled Adam’s face to his, his mouth open and waiting to be devoured. Their kisses were sloppy as Adam’s hand was frantic. Ronan bit at Adam’s lip, enough to sting. Adam let out a gasp, and between breaths Ronan let out a rough sounding _Adam_ , and it was all he needed to trip and fall head first into release.

Ronan pulled Adam’s face into the crook of his neck while they both caught their breath. Adam placed a shaky hand over Ronan’s heart like before, and took pleasure in the racing pulse he felt under his palm.

Only a couple of weeks ago, they had been fooling around in the farmhouse kitchen, and in between kisses that had robbed Adam of coherent thought, Ronan had uttered a phrase in Latin that roughly translated to _I want every single piece of you_. Adam thought he had understood what he’d meant then, easily reciprocating the feeling as they continued to make out like they had all the time in the world to do so. But Adam now thought that he had only understood it in the primal sense.

Now, Adam pushed himself up enough to be able to search Ronan’s blue eyes and he found them patient, vulnerable, but most importantly _content_ \- a new and foreign concept that each member of their small court was coming to terms with. And Adam soared at being held partially responsible for that look in Ronan’s eyes, and how badly he wanted to keep being responsible for it. _Please_ , his soul ached, _please keep learning what it means to be happy_.

Adam thought he finally understood what it meant to want every single piece of someone.

\---

They didn’t speak as they picked themselves up to head inside. Adam swiped the blanket up as Ronan led the way to the house. They left the lights off, both comfortable with navigating the familiar house in the dark. Ronan disappeared into the bathroom and Adam continued on to stop at the door of Matthew’s bedroom. He cracked it open to find Opal curled up and asleep on top of the comforter, her back to the door. Adam resisted the urge to cover her with a blanket and found himself staring at the nightlight plugged in. Like most miscellaneous items in the Lynch household, it was plucked from a dream. The nightlight projected all sorts of made up constellations across the room that would periodically change. Sometimes when Opal couldn’t sleep she’d drag one of them in there to help her name the shapes she could see, often getting more outrageous the later they stayed up.

Adam jumped at the feel of Ronan hooking a finger in his belt loop, gently tugging him back out of the room. Adam didn’t resist, softly closing the door behind him as he followed Ronan to his room instead. The room was littered with pieces of Ronan’s past and present co-mingling. There were more dream trinkets, and not all from his own dreams, some from Niall Lynch were scattered around the room. When Ronan was feeling pliant he would offer up stories, or explanations without needing to be asked for them. It was Niall Lynch who had been the story teller, but each of his boys had inherited a love for words. But only the oldest boys had learned to sharpen their words like weapons, leaving Matthew with the softer edges and no need for a constant shield.

They fell into the quiet of routine as they got undressed and curled up under the sheets. Adam stared at Ronan's tattoo in the dark, having memorized the pattern as well as he could have, to not need the light to imagine where the lines curled and spiked. Adam found himself once again trying to capture the moment, trying to constantly catalogue the pieces that made up his life. Cataloguing everything around him.

Adam never doubted his decision to follow through on leaving for school. He hadn't worked so hard for so long to give up the experience for anything, and nobody was asking him to do so. But Adam knew he had never really anticipated that he'd have to prepare himself for the inevitable sense of longing that would be waiting for him in September. Longing for his friends, longing for Ronan's hands, longing for Opal's childlike wonder, longing for the way Matthew's laugh echoes in the kitchen, longing for the only part of the ley lines he'd ever known, and the smallest part of him knew he'd even begrudgingly miss a few corners of Henrietta.

What he didn't know was how he'd manage to keep all of the catalogued pieces of his life in tact inside him. Adam had once asked Ronan, more rhetorically than anything, but how did he do it? How did Ronan walk around all the time with the possibility of endless universes inside of him, only limited to his own imagination. And he'd said he had no fucking idea. But he'd said it was something like a molotov cocktail. It was like he walked around every day with a bottle of liquor with a rag sticking out the top in his hand, and it relied on his own imagination to light it on fire, but he never really knew where all the pieces of glass would land. But if you aimed it right, Ronan said, then you could burn the whole world down if you wanted to.

"Ronan," Adam whispered, although he didn't need to fear waking Opal up as she had a tendency to sleep like the dead.

"Mm," Ronan murmured in response.

"I think I'm ready."

Ronan turned to look back over his shoulder, watching Adam's face closely while keeping his own guarded. "For school?"

"For everything."

Ronan nodded, not needing more explanation than that. "I was just waiting for you to realize it."

"Thank you," Adam said, his voice still hushed.

Ronan reached back for Adam's hand, pulling it to his chest so Adam moulded to his back. "Go to sleep, Parrish. We'll conquer the world in the morning."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Supportive boyfriends are the only kind of boyfriends worth having.


End file.
